Modus Vivendii
by Lily Nova
Summary: A series of stories of the often times turbulent other times interesting love story of Russia and America. Rated M for possible chapters with mature content. Modus Vivendii, a Latin phrase signifying an agreement between those whose opinions differ, such that they agree to disagree. If you like it, I would appreciate a review!


_**Hi, it's Lily with a story that caused me insomnia. I really couldn't sleep till it was written down. It's going to be a few short stories (probably 4?) in chapters all based on the absurdities of Russia and America's relationship. All fiction based and not really historical plus I do not own anything. Did I get everything?**_

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Chapter I: A Kind Monster and Selfish Victim

America sometimes wondered what others thought about his relationship with his former enemy. He had an idea of what England thought about it, England felt he was evil, scheming and violent; a monster. But then again, England's mentality of the Russian man was skewered from years of feuding and something he should not take to heart.

Japan had once told him that Russia was a force of nature with little regard for anything else, like a typhoon raging across a city, unbiased in its destruction of everything around it. Again, another jarred perspective that he found hard to fathom.

Perhaps if they had told him this many, many years ago, when he was still indirectly warring with the 'dangerous' Soviet state he would have listened, would have believed the tales of monstrosities and evil. Maybe he would have avoided any sort of friendly contact, stayed away from him like everyone else. But the past was in the past, and although he had still held some old grudges he did not hesitate to become friends with the former superpower because of it.

Surprisingly, they shared a lot of things in common, being countries whose powers far surpassed over the rest, everyone either hateful, fearful or watching admirably from a distance. They both knew what it was like being alone, having everything in the world but company, Russia more so than the American. They had managed to hold conversations and stay good friends though many could hardly understand how it worked out.

Who would have known that Alfred would go from being friendly to sharing the same bed with someone he used to hate?

England would never believe it was consensual. He always felt as if Russia had 'taken' him somehow, as if he were some helpless damsel in need of rescuing. Indeed the taller man was strong, he had no doubt, but strong enough to defeat America? Their strengths probably equalled and America would most definitely put up a fight if Russia had laid hands on him without him wanting to.

But it was consensual, in fact, America could vaguely remember initiating it. After too much beer and heated words they had kissed, his cold hands tugging on the others scarf, pulling him down to taste the vodka in his mouth. After that night, Alfred had kind of known he liked, scratch that, really liked the Russian far more than he had previously realized.

Ivan never seemed dangerous or malicious to Alfred, his calm smile always seemed sincere and he was gentle, kind and intelligent. He never could understand the terror that Lithuania and the others had, shivering and teary in the tall man's presence. At Russia's house one time, Lithuania dragged him to the kitchen and practically begged him.

"Please be careful, America," Lithuania's hushed voiced seemed comical now, "You don't have any idea what he's planning."

Careful? Of Ivan? He wanted to laugh at the notion.

Not once had Russia appeared sadistic, or even angry; everything was always fun and games to him. Why all the fear and hate for someone who just wanted company?

Whenever he met up with England, the topic of Russia would always come up.

"I can't bloody believe you still see him." He'd sighed anxiously, "I told you one of these days you'll see the true monster for what he really is."

_Monster_. That word made his blood boil.

"Russia's different now." America smiled reassuringly, anger still bubbling in his chest, "Let bygones be bygones England! You really enjoy holding grudges."

Arthur got the hint and frowned, brows furrowing in anger. It was true, he never let things go. America's independence, the hatred for Russia; it was all the same to him. He was constantly holding on to the past, refusing to accept the future as it was_. I am different now_, he wanted to scream_, I am not your little brother and Russia is not a monster, we've changed_. Instead he smiled, pushing aside the Brits warning; how could he trust the visions of someone who could not see the present?

Russia was always kind, even in bed. Almost too kind for America's liking. He'd hold him tenderly, smiling sweetly as he kissed him, always being careful with him; treating him like something precious and delicate. America sometimes grew intoxicated by it, his gentle eyes and big warm hands drove him crazy. He wanted to tear at him till there was nothing left of him, till he was his everything.

Ivan's kindness brought out the selfishness in his heart and sometimes that pained him.

_If Russia is the monster than what does that make me_? He'd think, consumed by the need to have Russia all to himself.

Even now, looking into his eyes, the feeling was there. The inexplicable feeling of jealously at the others that held a place in the Russian's heart. _Look only at me._ He wanted to grab him then and there and stop his eyes from wandering to anyone else.

The deep lavender locks focused back on him and the same, kind smile emerged, cheeks perpetually red from the coldness of his home. Suddenly the feeling was gone and shame consumed him. It was definitely impossible to have him all to himself, Russia was, after all, his own person with friends and family (albeit few) and Alfred had his friends as well. So why this selfish feeling? Why couldn't he be happy just having him by his side?

_Monster…_ He thought of the word used to describe the smiling man before him, the man whose head was tilted questioningly, perked in interest, curious of the words going through his spinning mind.

"What are you thinking about?" Russia spoke, his voice inquisitive and playful.

_You are too kind for me, for my selfishness. England, if only you could see, the real monster is…_

"I'm hungry," He moaned, hands lifting from the table, in exaggerated anxiety, "Let's get a bite to eat, I'm starving!"

Ivan's smile widened as he chuckled happily, "Didn't we just eat? What are we going to do with you?"

His eyes wandered away again as he stood, staring at the birds on the ground pecking at the crumbs he had thrown out. Eyes softening, dreamlike and America suddenly felt the urge, the urge to throw a stone at them, to send them flying, so that his eyes would fall back to him, only him.

_Me._

**End**

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_**For some reason, I feel this story wrote itself. It's weird. Anyway this is the first of a few. Review if you liked it, I guess you could review it if you didn't as well, I'd love some critique. Thanks for reading and I'll post more Russia and America in a bit.**_

_**Lily**_


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